


Sometimes Normal Is A Good Thing

by Seirla



Category: The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Immortals, Marvel Universe, Non-Graphic Violence, One Shot, Original Character(s), POV Third Person Limited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:56:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25535470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seirla/pseuds/Seirla
Relationships: Frank Castle/OFC
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	Sometimes Normal Is A Good Thing

A summer evening found Seirla walking down the streets of Los Angeles. She was headed back to her hotel, in town for work for a while. The streets weren't empty, and now and then she was spoken to as she walked, mostly by men because of how she looked. Blood red hair down to her hips, pale skin, bright green eyes, and anyone would be able to tell she was from the fashion industry just by her clothes. She made a short cut down a silent side street to avoid the stares and cat calls and also led almost straight back to her hotel.

Her heels echoed down the silent side street that looked more like an alleyway than a street. She wasn't your average person, but she mostly kept that to herself. As she walked, she could hear footsteps other than her own, her hearing keener than a human's. She tried to ignore it, but the further she walked the more she could tell the owner of the footsteps was following her. She turned around to see more than one man about fifteen feet away from her. Three obviously drunken men. She could smell it on them.

She crossed her arms over her chest and stared the men down. “You had better get out of here. Stalking a lady at night is going to get you into trouble.”

The men laughed at her, and one of them answered her. “Walkin' down an alley dressed like that's gonna get you into trouble 'lady'.”

While it was true she was wearing a form fitting dress that could be considered a bit short, she looked professional, not like someone who would be soliciting favors. She didn't even have any cleavage showing. She was aware of how she looked however, and her body alone got her into 'trouble' now and then. Nothing she couldn't handle though.

The men had taken a few steps towards her while she stared them down. “My advice is to move on gentlemen. I'm not a whore and I'm not into drunks.”

They seemed to get angry at her condescending tone, and the three of them seemed to think that they could take her on and they rushed her. She was up against the brick wall of one of the buildings with her breath knocked out of her, each of her arms pinned to the building by one man each while the third for into her face. He reeked of booze and cigarette smoke as he breathed in her face, sneering at her. She pulled one arm away from the wall, throwing the man holding that arm off balance, and she hit the man in front of her hard before the other man got his footing again and grabbed her arm and held her tighter.

The man she hit grabbed her by the throat and got an inch from her face, saying that if she tried that again she would regret it, and he forced his knee between her legs. She didn't want to kill anyone, but she sure as hell didn't want to be raped by stinking drunks either.

She didn't have to debate long, because as she closed her eyes to avoid looking at the dirty man in her face, suddenly she could tell he wasn't there anymore, and she opened her eyes to see someone beating the life out of the man who had been pressed up against her. The other two men who were holding her pinned let go of her in a hurry to go and help their comrade, and her arms dropped to her sides for a moment.

The sound of blows was sickening, but she didn't run off, she went to help. Three on one wasn't a fair fight, though the man who had been about to assault her was lying unconscious in a crumpled heap on the pavement.

Several minutes later all three men were lying on the pavement either groaning or unconscious, and Seirla turned to the stranger who had come to her aid as he pulled a handgun and shot each one once. He was wearing a black Kevlar vest with a black shirt underneath, and even though his back was to her for the moment she could tell who he was. He turned to face her and his expression was like stone, as if he expected her to run away now that she saw the skull on his vest and the blood on his knuckles and face and the gun in his hand.  
  


“Thank you,” she said. He seemed surprised that she hadn't taken off the second he'd pulled the gun, and even more so that she was thanking him.

“It's what I do,” was his gruff reply as he put the gun away.

“I know,” she responded, recognizing the skull that was painted on the Kevlar. She stopped him as he turned to walk away and leave her. “Why don't you let me buy you a drink as a thank you. My hotel is just around the corner and there's a bar downstairs. You could wash up in the rest room and you could leave the Kevlar with me and I'll give it back when you go to leave. Deal?”

He seemed to hesitate for a moment before beginning to pull the Velcro fastening the vest into place. She smiled at him. To think she was lucky enough to meet one of the biggest vigilantes in the country, and that he was agreeing to have a drink with her. He took the vest off and held it out to her a little stiffly. She stepped closer and took it, hoping that maybe he would relax a little bit over drinks and conversation.

The redhead started on down the narrow side street again, this time not hearing anyone but the two of them, considering that there were three dead bodies lying in the middle of the alley.

They came out of the alley onto another main road and she led the way down the street to the hotel she was staying at; the Beverly Hills Hotel. She noticed that he was polite, opening the door for her and letting her go in first. She pointed him in the direction of the visitor bathroom, and that she would meet him in the bar in ten minutes.

Up in her hotel room, she set the skull painted Kevlar on the sofa and went to change. She wasn't going to go downstairs while she was covered in dirt from the brick wall she'd been pinned against. She put on something she considered casual, though nothing she wore was truly casual, a white off the shoulder dress that was loose up top, but the short skirt was fitted as if tailors specifically for her curves.

She went back downstairs and went into the bar, where her savior she could see was waiting for her. He seemed to have cleaned up a good deal. His dark hair wasn't tousled from the fight anymore, and his hands had been washed, she could see even from where she was. She went over to him and smiled. She turned to the bartender and asked for her favorite drink, and whatever he wanted, and to put it all on her tab. She led them to one of the round booths and sat down with her drink, an apple sangria and watched him sit down as well.

She was surprised that he was even there, Frank Castle wasn't much of a social butterfly in recent years. She thanked him again, and asked him how he had managed to get there right when she was about to take care of the problem herself. He had heard them talking beforehand and stepped in when he thought he needed to he said.

She was pleased that he was talking, and as they drank and he seemed to relax a little bit the easier the conversation came to them. She didn't shy away from many subjects, but she seemed to know which ones not to touch on as well. And she found that she liked him, especially when he laughed a little at something she said.

They talked for quite some time, the bartender bringing them refills as he saw them empty. She had a higher tolerance to alcohol than a normal human did, her metabolism a little faster. The perks of being an immortal. She was buzzed by the time he was just becoming a little drunk. And he seemed to have a high tolerance as well. She finished her last drink and asked him if he might be interested in coming up to her room, he had to get his vest anyway. He seemed to still for a moment, recoiling a little into the shell he had had before. But she didn't press him and she told him that she wasn't a simple human female. He didn't need to worry she'd get hurt because she had lived through more than most people. And she told him that sometimes a little bit of normal was a good thing. Death and blood wasn't the only thing his life needed to be.

He was silent for a moment before he nodded a little, reserved, but she smiled at him and he told her he'd come up to get his vest and maybe a cup of coffee. “Whatever you want,” she replied as she stood up from the booth, and her tone hinted that she meant literally whatever he wanted.

They got off the elevator on the fourth floor and she led him down the hall to her room, swiped the key card and opened the door, going in first and stepping aside to let him in. She shut the door once she crossed the threshold. She said she would make that coffee for him if he wanted, since she had a little kitchenette attached to the sitting room. It was a normal sized suite, just enough for her. He asked her if he could use her bathroom and the pointed him through the bedroom. There was a four poster bed in there, with hangings. Seirla liked things like that even if she was by herself.

While he was in the bathroom she got the coffee going. He was taking some time, and she went to check on him. He was in her room, over her open suitcase with her previous dress in one hand. She knew why he was looking through her things. He couldn't help but be suspicious. She walked up to him and set her hand on the one that held her dress.

“You can look for weapons, poison and bugs all you want. I don't have any, and I wasn't sent to kill you. My attack wasn't scripted to lure you in, and anything you're thinking about my behavior is up to you. I'm honest, and I'm real. Sometimes things work out and are normal. It does happen.”

He looked down at her while she spoke, and she could see he was contemplating her words, trying to tell if she were being as honest as she said she was. She didn't avoid his gaze, and she felt him slowly let go of her dirty dress and felt his hand slide over her side around her waist.

“You better be telling the truth,” he said in the same gruff and gravelly voice as he leaned down to kiss her. She could hear the coffee finishing in the other room, but she didn't care about it if he didn't. She slid her arms up around his neck and returned his kiss, getting a distinct feeling that she wouldn't be sleeping alone tonight.

He picked her up, breaking the kiss, and as light as she was, she wrapped her legs around him as he carried her to her bed and laid her down. Kissing her again, he ran his hands over her sides to rest on her hip. His hands were warm, she could feel it through the material of her dress. And she could tell by the sound of his hands over the material that his hands were calloused and rough. Her mouth opened to invite him in and a soft sound of appreciation came out of her as he took the invitation and lied beside her so that his weight wasn't crushing her. He pulled her against him and ran his hand down her back and over the curve of her butt. Her hands weren't idle either, untucking his shirt so she might run her hands over the warm flesh underneath.

She could feel the knotting of some of his scars with her soft fingertips as she ran her hands up from his waist, his shirt moving up as she went along. He broke the kiss though and sat up to fully remove his shirt, and she got the feeling that he had been by himself for longer than he liked. She could tell by the way he acted. But he couldn't hurt her, and though he didn't know it, she wasn't in any danger, because unless her head came away from her body or her heart got ripped out, she couldn't die. She thought maybe she might be what he needed right then, and she was perfectly fine with that.

Once he had removed his shirt he reached for her again, intent on her dress. She sat up and helped him pull it over her head. She wore no bra since the top of the dress had been so loose even for her ample chest, and she didn't hide from him as he looked at her, not shy or modest in the least. He reached out and ran his rough hands over her soft, smooth skin, over her ribs beneath her breasts, and she closed her eyes in pleasure and sighed as his thumbs brushed against her breasts. He seemed to have a feeling of urgency, but he was purposefully patient. She let him do as he pleased, letting him run his hands over any part of her he wished, lying back down and stretching out before him.

He planted kisses across her chest and belly following the path his hands took, and the lower his hands went she moved as needed to let him. He stopped a moment to remove his boots and she sat up to run her own hands over his back and shoulders. Once his boots were off he twisted and grabbed her around the waist and and swung her around so dropped her on the bed on her back, winding her a little and laughing as he kissed her again. He removed the last vestiges of her clothing and then the rest of his as well.

She ran her hands over his skin as he had with her, anywhere she could reach. She worked her way down until her fingertips ran over the length of him, stroking him, watching his reaction. He was already hard, but she felt him get more so under her fingertips, and when she curled her slender fingers around him she felt him pulse. She smiled and leaned up a little to kiss him. His hands weren't idle either, having made their way down her belly as she had done with him, and she moved her leg out of the way to give him access. He pressed a finger to her clit and a soft moan escaped her into his mouth.

He slipped a digit inside of her, and then another, and another moan came out of her as she gripped him. She felt him pulse again in her hand, him beginning to move his fingers within her while his thumbs rubbed her clit, making her moan again, breaking the kiss as her head tilted back into the bed, her hips lifting as he pressed back into her. He repeated the motion, gradually increasing the pace, her body moving on its own to meet his fingers. She let go of him to grasp at his arm as a very familiar pressure started to build in her belly. Her long nails dug into him slightly in an attempt to stay even a little grounded, but her body built until her cries rang out as her walls spasmed around his fingers.

Finally he stilled, and she tried to catch her breath as she trembled slightly, a soft sound coming out of her as he removed his fingers from her depths. He gave her a moment, kissing her as he moved to settle between her legs. She returned his kiss, feeling his hand grasp one of her breasts while the head of him pressed against her entrance. She pulled up one of her legs and hooked the other over his hip, lifting up a little in invitation.

He got the hint, and slowly pressed himself into her, his hands both moving to grasp her hips as she stretched around him, his groan mixing with the moan that came out of her. He stayed still for a moment once he had pressed into her to the hilt, letting her adjust to him before he started to move.

She was tight around him, and at first her body didn't want to let him move, but after a few slow thrusts her body adjusted fully. A soft moan escaped her as she started to move with him, meeting his thrusts. She grasped his shoulders as he moved within her, once more gradually increasing the pace but not being overly rough, but enough that each time he pressed back into her it rent a soft cry from her pretty mouth.

Her body was still sensitive from his attention to her before, and it didn't take very long for that tell tale pressure to begin building in her belly. She was breathless, her hands flat palmed on his back, her body moving with his as she started to tighten around him as she cried out. He kept his pace even and it didn't take but a minute for her to set off a second time, more intently than the first time, her walls closing around him and spasming. Her nails raked over his back as she cried out repeatedly, his movements then becoming more jagged and rough. He forced cries out of her, her orgasm drawing out with his movements until he stopped and she could feel him pulsing within her and the tell tale warmth that went with it.

They lay catching their breath, and she let her legs rest on the bedding. After a few minutes he slowly removed himself from her, and she finally let him go, thinking he was going to leave. But he laid down beside her and pulled her closer against him. She lay against his side with her head on his shoulder and a hand resting on his ribs. She didn't say anything, afraid to break the silence and content to listen to his heartbeat and breathing. She hoped that maybe he would make himself a presence in her life, be it once in a while or on a regular basis.


End file.
